Flying
by Misha
Summary: Sometimes, Hermione dreamed that she was flying.


Flying   
By Misha 

Disclaimer- Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling and is not mine, however much I might wish differently. However, I am not making any money off of this, so please do not sue me! 

Author's Notes- Yet another Hermione angst piece. I really like those. Once again this is set after the books end. The first part of this came to me and the rest evolved from that. I like this one, it's angst, but I think it has a bit of sweetness to it that some of my others don't. Oh, well, that's just my opinion, but I'm eager to hear yours. Feedback please? 

Pairing- Harry/Hermione, Hermione/Other 

Summery- Sometimes, Hermione dreamed that she was flying. 

Rating- PG-13 

Spoilers- All five books.

* * *

Sometimes I dream of flying. 

I dream that I'm on Harry's broom, my arms wrapped tight around his waist as we fly around the Quidditch Pitch late at night, when there's no one there to watch us. 

Then, I wake up and I realize that I'm very much on the ground and that I'll never be up in the air again. 

Those dreams hurt, because they're not just dreams. 

They're memories of a time I'll never get back. A time I'd do just about anything to forget. 

We were happy then. We were young, we were in love, and for a little while, we were able to forget that the world around us was dying. 

Reality always intruded, though. 

Those were horrible months, really. So many dead, so much hate and suffering. 

Yet, our love made it better. It took away some of the pain and ugliness, because we had each other. 

It ended, of course, the way it was destined to. I know now that there was no other way. It was going to end in heartbreak. That's the consequences of loving one marked from birth for greatness. 

But at the time, it didn't matter. I loved him too much to think about what the future held. 

All that mattered was being with Harry for as long as I was able too. 

Those moments on his broom were perfect. I've always been a little bit afraid of flying, but Harry made me feel safe as we did his favorite thing in the world. 

He just loved to fly. 

Those moments were a piece of heaven. 

Of course, it didn't last. In the end, it was all taken away. I lost him and I lost the world I loved so much. 

I couldn't stay in it. Not without him. Too many memories, too much pain. 

So I left. 

Without a word to anyone, I just disappeared one day. It wasn't that hard, I went back to the Muggle world and tried to forget that I knew any other. 

But in my dreams, I can't forget. In my dreams, it's all in glorious technicolor, every moment of the time we had together. 

I can hear the laughter, the quiet conversations, the tender exchanges of love as if it was only yesterday that it all took place. I can still feel Harry's arms around me, his hands on my body, his lips against my own. 

In all the years since then, no one's ever made me feel like he did. 

Oh, there have been others. I even got married and had babies, but it's not what it would have been had Harry lived. 

I care about my husband, but I don't love him the way I loved my darling Harry. No, that kind of love has forsaken me forever, though I do have love in my life. 

The love I feel for my children. 

I have three beautiful children. I love them all, but one is more precious to me and the others, as much I hate to admit it. 

My eldest child occupies a place that my other two can't, because she is Harry's child and they are not. 

Yes, I was pregnant when Harry died, when I left the world we had shared. 

I gave birth to Lily seven months after her father died. He never even knew I was pregnant. I didn't know how to tell him when the world was full of so much fear and then, when the fear ended and the world was safe again, it was to late, because Harry was gone. 

Though, a piece of him lives on in his daughter. 

Lily looks like me, but she has her father's eyes, the eyes of the grandmother for whom she is named. 

I look into them and I see Harry all over again. I remember all that went before. 

She's ten now and I fear her eleventh birthday. The letter will come, I know it will. After all, she is my child and Harry's, of course she is destined for Hogwarts. 

I'm so afraid, yet I know I can't deny her the world that is her birthright. I'm just terrified because I know that I'll have to tell her about her father, about everything that happened back then. 

After all, she's the child of a hero. 

I gave her his name. She is Lily Potter. Well, actually she is Lily Potter-Mason, as my husband adopted her and added his name to Harry's. 

I wouldn't let him take out the Potter completely. She is Harry's daughter, she deserves his name. 

It is a name that will serve her well when she goes into the wizarding world. It might also burden her with expectations that no child is capable of matching, I'm not sure. 

There will be people who will look to Harry's daughter to follow in his footsteps. 

After all, my darling Harry set a lofty standard, he achieved greatness very early, though it was never his intention or his choice. 

He never wanted it. Never wanted to be different. But he didn't have a choice, greatness was a part of his very being. 

Nothing about Harry was ever normal. He was destined to be a hero. 

Now, I realize that the kind of greatness that Harry had in him made it so that the story could only end one way. Harry was never meant to grow to a ripe old age surrounded by grandchildren. His was the kind of life meant to burn brightly and quickly. Harry was not meant for forever. 

I think I always knew that, but I loved him anyway. 

I loved him despite the fact that loving Harry Potter could never end happily. In the end, all it brought me was heartbreak. 

No, that's not true. 

It also brought me a daughter I love more than life itself and beautiful memories that I'll always cherish. 

I don't regret loving Harry. I couldn't regret that. 

It was special. That once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. It just wasn't meant to be the forever kind. 

Not that I won't love him until I die, but I don't love him the way I did then. 

Too many years have passed. I grew up, while Harry is forever seventeen. Never more than a boy. 

Our love was young, innocent. 

I truly believe that had he lived it would have matured and grown into the kind of love on which lifetimes are built, but we never had that chance. It was not meant to be. 

I've accepted that. 

I've accepted many things with the passing of time. I can't go back. I'll never have what I once dreamed of, but that's life. 

You don't always get what you thought, what you thought you would. 

As the years have passed, I've accepted what I've lost and I've built a life without Harry. But that doesn't mean I've stopped missing him. Stopped remembering what it was like, for that precious moment in time when I was his and he was mine. 

No, I still think about it, just like I still dream of flying. 

The End 


End file.
